Carve Your Heart Out Yourself
by caramelo
Summary: AU. Brooke wants Nathan. Nathan strings Brooke along. And Lucas is left to keep her from falling apart. All set in posh Tree Hill, California, a sinfully rich city where appearances are everything and a good guy is hard to find. NB, BL, and others.
1. Dream On

**Carve Your Heart Out Yourself**

_By: caramelo_

_I do not own _One Tree Hill _or anything related to it._

_Episode Guide/Spoilers:_ None, although you will see some parallels in storylines between this story and the show. For the most part, however, this story is completely AU.

"_Do you, Nathan Scott, take Brooke Davis to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you part?"_

_"I do," said the man. His smile was broad, and his eyes were only for Brooke. _

_The priest turned to Brooke. A hint of a smile passed over his face. He cleared his throat before continuing. "And do you, Brooke Davis, take Nathan Scott to be you lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you part?"_

_Brooke nodded slowly and swallowed. Her eyes filled with tears. She had been crying on and off during the entire ceremony and her mascara was probably a runny mess by now. She just couldn't believe it was actually happening. She was actually marrying Nathan Scott, the love of her life ever since she had been old enough to realize that boys didn't have cooties. Which was somewhere around the age of three. _

"_I do," she whispered, smiling through her tears. "You bet I do."_

_The priest finally allowed himself to smile fully. "Then I now pronounce you husband and wife." He turned to Nathan and said, "You may kiss the bride."_

_Nathan grinned wolfishly and grasped Brooke's hand in his, tugging her gently closer to him. His other arm encircled her waist, and he lowered his lips to hers._

_It was the most magical kiss Brooke had ever had. As soon as their lips touched, an electric shock ran through both of them. Everyone in the gigantic cathedral started cheering, their voices echoing off the walls, and church bells were chiming above. If Brooke had been struck dead at this very second, she would have gone elated._

_Finally, they had to pull away from each other. Nathan gazed down at Brooke affectionately. "I love you so much," he said, choked, and left another chaste kiss upon her lips._

_Brooke blinked back more tears. She couldn't believe this was happening._

Actually, it wasn't.

Brooke _had _heard bells, but they weren't coming from a church. "Marisol!" her stepmother screeched for the maid in that high, beyond annoying voice of hers while tinkling the damned little porcelain bell Brooke's father had bought her. "Marisol, did you pick up those low-carb breakfast bars I asked for?"

Brooke groaned and shut her eyes tightly, willing herself to go back to sleep. Her dream had been _so _good. If only she could go back to it for a few more hours at least…

Her eyes immediately snapped wide open, and she jerked up. _No_.

She did _not _just enjoy a dream that had to do with that son of a bitch Nathan Scott. No. She didn't want anything to do with Nathan Scott. At all. Period. He was an egotistical jerk who couldn't treat a girl right if his life depended on it. He was the scum of the earth.

But, and this was a very small but, Brooke reminded herself, he was absolutely fantastic in bed.

But, and this was a very big but, that didn't matter anymore. Because they weren't together anymore. Because Nathan Scott was an egotistical jerk who couldn't treat a girl right if his life depended on it.

Brooke took a deep, calming breath, the kind her yoga instructor always encouraged. Even thinking about that arrogant bastard got her all riled up.

In more ways than one.

She sighed. Why did arrogant bastards like him always have to be so hot and irresistible? She was supposed to be furious, goddamnit, and here she was getting turned on at the very thought of his delicious body all taut and sweaty after another night in bed.

Brooke really had to stop this. It couldn't be healthy.

"Marisol!" her stepmother screeched again, loud enough to break Brooke's eardrums and train of thought. She toppled out of bed in shock.

"Shit!" Brooke swore. That _hurt_. She gradually pulled herself up to a sitting position, wincing as a skinned elbow began to sting. She pushed it up near her face and examined the reddened, slightly bleeding arm distastefully. That was when the door burst open.

"Brookie!" her stepmother, Elise, cried. "I heard a crash. What happened?"

"I fell," Brooke answered flatly.

"Why?"

Brooke glared. "_Why_?" she spat out. "_Because _some classless bitch was downstairs screaming a few seconds ago and scared the shit out of me. But what scared me even more was that she was doing it in _my _house at _my _housekeeper."

Elise took a step back, shocked. It always came as a surprise for Brooke's new mothers when they realized how little patience Brooke had for bullshitting around. But, thanks to Brooke's harsh tongue, they often learned their place very quickly, unless they were the special kind of stupid that Brooke particularly hated.

"Oh," Elise finally said. "Well. Your father's back. He just flew in last night."

So _that _was why Elise had taken the trouble to come up the stairs and pretend to care so much. They all did, at first. Until, of course, they learned that Daddy dearest didn't give a shit about whether they fussed over Brooke or not. He didn't, so why should they? Soon enough, Elise would join the ranks of enlightened woman that had come before and park her ass permanently in the poolside lounge-chair in some tacky swimsuit made by an overpriced designer from France or Italy. Like all the rest, she'd be supremely unconcerned about whether Brooke was studying or in jail.

Not that she'd ever have to worry about Brooke studying.

"Wonderful," Brooke seethed, sneering disdainfully at Elise. "Go and tell him I love him. Or that I need a few hundred bucks. Either one works."

Elise stared at Brooke with rounded eyes for a few beats of silence before turning on her expensive designer heel and getting the hell out of the room. Brooke scoffed and pushed herself up off the ground. "Stupid bitch," she muttered.

It had always been easy to scare Daddy's little sluts away. Most of them were never too much older than her. That was the way he liked them. Personally, Brooke found it totally gross. All those cheap, little gold diggers were like leeches, draping themselves all over him, hands in completely inappropriate places, to coax out a new diamond or purse.

Brooke shivered the image away and walked across her room, stopping in front of her closet. She was ready to get out, and she couldn't very well do that in the silk night clothes she was wearing. She threw open the glass doors.

It didn't take her too long to find the perfect outfit amongst the ranks of clothing hanging in her ridiculously large closet. She had just gone shopping last week and had bought this slinky, pink dress she had been dying to wear. Brooke shed her nightwear and stepped into sundress, sliding it over her long-admired curves. She zipped it up with little trouble and stepped into matching sandals. With a quick grab at a white purse and the right jewelry, she'd be good to go.

But, as Brooke picked at and discarded the jewelry so carefully arranged in drawers and boxes, trusting her maid to tidy up the mess later, she couldn't help but replay the dream she had had that night over and over in her mind, a frown fixed on her face.

Why did Nathan Scott have such a tight hold on her? He was an ass, and he treated her like dirt, but she always went crawling back to him. She knew he used her. She knew she was only a fiery little sex toy in a nice package to him, something he could pick up and throw out whenever he wanted. She knew he hadn't ever, and would never, care about her or love her.

But she always came back. Always.

All it took was him whispering some sweet nothings in her ear, making impossible promises of love, and a few gentle kisses. Sure enough, they'd be in bed (or sometimes against a wall) screwing each other within the next hour. Brooke hated herself for it, but for some reason, she could never stop. Nathan Scott had really stolen her heart.

Brooke laughed aloud at the concept and then scowled at how bitter it sounded spilling out from her lips. She needed a distraction, she decided, preferably in the form of a hot, rich college guy that was big on partying but still had a halfway legitimate vocabulary. It would take some work on her part. Brooke ruffled through her jewelry for another few minutes before finally deciding on a relatively simple white ribbon necklace with a pink diamond flower hanging from it. She smiled as she held it against her chest. Not for the first time, she noted just how low the neckline of the dress was.

She couldn't say she minded. It made her boobs look amazing.

And it did wonders for the rest of her body as well, she thought as she studied herself critically in a mirror that hung on the back wall of her closet. It was clingy, but not to the point of being trashy, and it beautifully enhanced legs. And what it did for her already slim torso…

Brooke smirked as she admired herself from the side-view. _God. Who needs exercise when a dress does this kind of work for you?_

She smiled one last time at her reflection before bouncing out of the closet, making a quick grab at a random white purse before she passed through the doors. It was shallow, but she _adored _having money. There was nothing like being able to afford that expensive little dress, custom-made just for her. Nothing at all.

After finishing all the other things on her pesky morning routine, Brooke sauntered down the stairs and out the door, passing her stepmother, the maids, and her father along the way and not sparing a word for any of them. They didn't pay attention to her, so why should she bother to acknowledge them?

She dialed her best friend's cell number as she climbed into her pretty red Jaguar, a painfully expensive creature despite its tiny size. "Hales," she chirped as a groggy voice on the other end picked up. "Why the hell are you so tired?"

"Late night," came the grumpy reply.

"You slutty little minx," Brooke laughed. "You'll have to tell me all about it when you meet me for breakfast."

"Breakfast? Brooke, it's too early."

"Um, that's kind of the point of breakfast, Haley. You eat it early."

"I need my sleep."

"We'll get coffee," Brooke promised. "See you in twenty."

"Brooke, I…"

Click. Brooke snapped her phone shut with a satisfied smirk. Haley would be there in fifteen, no doubt. And provided that there were no distractions, well, Brooke _might _make it there in thirty…

Five minutes later, Brooke looked in her rearview mirror to see flashing blue lights tailing her. She glanced down at her speedometer and moaned. Eighty in a fifty-five. She was toast. Reluctantly, she jerked her car over to the side of the road and parked.

She was so busy digging through her purse for her license that she didn't get a good look at the officer until he was peering down into her window. Finally catching sight of her laminated picture, she pulled her license out of the bottom her purse with a flourish and glanced up.

He was male, Brooke noted immediately, about twenty-two. A smile touched her lips. She just might escape from this unscathed after all. _Sorry, Haley_, she said to herself. It looked like she had just stumbled across a distraction.

"Do you have any idea how fast you were going, miss?" he asked.

Brooke shrugged and gazed up at him with innocent, rounded eyes. "A little too fast I guess," she said coyly.

"About twenty-five miles over the speed limit," he said sternly.

Brooke frowned. This guy was obviously a stickler for rules. However, he was pretty cute with thick dark hair and a chiseled jaw. His biceps bulged against the sleeves of his uniform. She bet he had a great body underneath that polyester shirt.

"I'm really sorry," she said with a pout. "How can I make it up to you?"

The expression on the officer's face tightened. "It's not about me," he said. "It's about the safety of the public."

"The public, huh?" Brooke teased. "Well, how about we do them a favor and keep me off the road for the next hour or so?"

The guy cocked a brow. "And we would do that by…"

Brooke smirked. She had him. "I can think of a few things. Why don't you come join me in here, and we'll see how they work out?"

He swallowed, hard, and tugged at his shirt. "I really shouldn't be doing this."

Brooke tactfully swept away his fingers from his collar pulled him down to her level. "That's what makes it so fun," she purred in his ear.

Whatever resistance the officer had was destroyed by this temptation. Abruptly, he turned his head and crashed his lips onto hers. Brooke rested her hand on the steering wheel to steady herself and reciprocated, congratulating herself on a job well done. There was no way she was getting a ticket after this.

When he began fumbling with her door handle, however, she stopped him.

"I've always wanted to do it in a cop car," she said huskily.

The officer grinned. "I think we can arrange that," he answered. He opened her door for her like a gentleman and steered her over to the backseat of his car, noticeably having trouble with the door handle. Brooke giggled and pounced in when he finally managed to tug it open. She patted the space beside her playfully, and he clambered in after. Soon, the backseat of the car was a mess of discarded clothes and tangled limbs.

Obviously, Brooke decided sometime in the middle of it, she had been right in her assumption that police officers liked it rough.

A half of an hour later, Brooke climbed out of the cop car with a self-satisfied smirk adorning her face. "I think we've done the public a real service officer," she said breezily.

"I can name at least one person," the officer leered.

"Trust me," Brooke sneered. "There's been a lot more than one of you."

The officer was clearly taken aback. He was considerably less cocky as he asked for her phone number. "I'd make good use of it," he promised.

Brooke sighed. "I just don't think I'm ready for that kind of commitment," she said, holding back her laughter. "After all," she lowered her voice as she leaned in close, "we've only done it once." She drew him into another heated kiss, pulling away only when she was sure that he was completely breathless.

"I'm still good for another go," the officer panted, halfway-pleading.

"I don't think so," Brooke said. "Nobody's ever been able to handle me twice." She trailed a lingering finger down his mis-buttoned chest and turned away. "Ta-ta," she waggled her fingers behind her as she climbed into her own car. Before he could manage to stutter out a goodbye, she had already sped away, pushing eighty once again.

Brooke threw her head back and laughed as she eyed the now-distant figure in her rearview mirror. She really was a terrible person.

Haley was waiting for her just outside the door their favorite café, tapping her foot and looking royally pissed when Brooke finally pulled into a parking spot, a little over an hour late. Brooke cut off the ignition and calmly stepped out of her car, forcing a big smile as she walked over to her friend.

"You bitch," Haley said flatly, before Brooke could chirp out one of her usual excuses. "I've been waiting here for almost an hour and a half, Brooke. People walking in and out have been looking at me like I'm some freaking psycho or purse-snatcher or something."

"Hales…"

"No!" Haley snapped. "No, you cannot even call me that right now. I am so sick of putting up with this crap, Davis. You do it all the time. And it's not like I even call you. You're the one that has to drag me out of bed at all ungodly hours of the morning just so I can cater to you and your needs. I swear, Brooke, you better have an excuse along the lines of your grandmother having a heart-attack or something right after you called me or else I'm leaving right now."

"Um," Brooke said. "My grandmother had a heart-attack right after you called me?"

Haley glared. "You used that one last week."

Brooke cursed. "I knew it sounded familiar."

"That's it!" Haley cried, throwing up her hands in frustration. "I'm done! I'm leaving! Call me when you sort out all your shit."

Brooke sighed and spun around to watch her friend's retreating back. "I was going eighty down Bayview, and I had to screw a police officer so he wouldn't revoke my license."

Haley paused. Then she made a noise of aggravation and reluctantly turned back around. "At least you were honest this time," she muttered.

Brooke's lips curled into a half-smile. "So does that mean you're ready to go in now? Two venti vanilla lattes with skim milk and lots of sugar are waiting for us. On me."

Haley appeared torn by her indecision for a few moments but then grudgingly reached out and linked her arm through Brooke's. "Someday, you won't be able to bribe me with caffeine," she warned.

"Maybe I'll have gotten more responsible by then," Brooke said.

Haley snorted. "Fat chance."

Brooke shrugged gamely as they walked through the door together. "I guess you're right."

**Author's Note: **So there's your beginning. Mostly background for now, but next chapter we should get into the plot more. Also expect to see Peyton and Jake and hopefully at least one of the Scott brothers. The only confirmed couples in this story right now are NB and BL, but there will be a few side-couples. They'll be pretty easy to figure out, I think. I hope you guys like the story so far and decide to stick with it. It's a story I've wanted to do for a while – something light as compared to Only in the News or even She Don't Dream for Me. Please, please leave a review to let me know what you think!

_until next time…_

_caramelo_


	2. Some Will Seek Forgiveness

**Carve Your Heart Out Yourself**

_By: caramelo_

_I do not own _One Tree Hill_ or anything related to it._

**Part Two**

"So," Haley said hesitantly, swirling the remains of her cooled coffee around with her sugar stirrer. She and Brooke had been at their table – the best one, of course, right next to the large glass window – for a good twenty minutes now, entertaining themselves with gossip (Theresa's botched nose job was still a favorite) and Brooke throwing out the occasional derisive remark about the passersby outside. Finally, they had hit a lull, and Haley could take the chance to bring up the only topic Brooke had skillfully evaded throughout the conversation. "Have you talked to Peyton lately?"

Predictably, Brooke's eyes narrowed. The laughter lingering in them after making a particularly scathing remark about a wannabe whore in a leopard print skirt vanished. "I don't want to hear her name right now, okay?" Brooke said tightly. "Or ever again, actually."

"Brooke," Haley protested. "You guys were such good friends."

"_Were _pretty much sums it up," Brooke said. "I don't want anything to do with that fake blonde bitch now."

Haley sighed. "I can understand why you're upset…"

"Well, _duh_," Brooke interjected impatiently. "Haley, she hooked up with my boyfriend – if you could've even called him that. I don't forgive that kind of stuff."

"She was drunk," Haley reasoned.

Brooke shrugged uncaringly.

"You know she's been going through a tough time ever since her mom died."

Brooke scoffed. "Are you trying to pull that guilt shit on me? Everybody's got their own little sob story, Haley. That happened over a year ago. And you know what? We were there for her. We sat with her at the funeral and then stayed with her for a month afterwards when her dad went on that business trip. If it wasn't for us, she pretty much would have crawled into some broody hole of hers and died. And what does she do to show her appreciation? She fucks Nathan."

Brooke paused to take a much-needed breath. Haley opened her mouth, but a warning glare kept her silent. "If you say something along the lines of 'she was just looking for someone to fill some goddamn missing piece inside her heart,' I will stab you with my heel."

Haley's mouth snapped shut. She scowled. "I was just trying to help you guys."

"But, _why_?" Brooke said, aggravated. "I thought you were on my side with this."

"I am," Haley assured her. "But it's always been the three of us…"

"No," Brooke said seriously, slinging an arm around Haley's shoulder. "It's always been the two of us. You and me, Hales. Peyton didn't even move here until seventh grade, remember?"

"Of course I do," Haley said with a bitter smile. "You ignored me for a whole year afterwards."

"I was dumb," Brooke declared swiftly. "But we made up in time for high school, right? And then it was the three of us. But now, we can go back to the way it always used to be. I should have known back then that Peyton was a friend-stealer _and _a boyfriend-stealer."

Haley laughed. "You did not just use the term _boyfriend-stealer _in a serious sentence."

There was a pause. Then, Brooke groaned and buried her head in her hands. "Oh, God, I did. Just go ahead and exile me to the valley now. I don't deserve to be around functioning people."

"Brooke," Haley said dryly. "I know you're tough, but you wouldn't last one week there. It might as well be a death sentence."

Brooke shook her head, mournful. "I'm very adaptable. I'll learn to like pork rinds and cut-off shorts."

The two fell into a contemplative silence for a few moments before daring to glance up at each other. Hidden grins cracked and soon gave way into uncontrollable giggles at the picture of Brooke in a land where the stores only carried knock-off purses. The unsaid understanding in their laughter said that the Peyton drama had smoothly transitioned itself away and was not to be brought up again, no matter how heavily it lingered over the pair.

Once the two had managed to pull themselves together into some semblance of control, Brooke clasped her fingers atop the table and cleared her throat daintily, a perfect impression of her last stepmother. "Speaking of trashy," she said without a trace of humor in her voice or expression, "What was it you were telling me earlier about being exhausted after hooking up with some mystery guy last night? You remembered to use protection, right?"

A bewildered eyebrow rose on Haley's face before she remembered the short phone conversation she had shared with Brooke that morning. "Brooke!" she exclaimed, reaching over to slap her best friend's shoulder lightly. "I said no such thing."

"Well, why else would you be so tired?" Brooke asked as if she could honestly think of no other reason Haley – or anyone else, for that matter – could have for morning drowsiness.

Haley rolled her eyes. "I was filling out a college application, actually. You know, those things that could decide our entire future in case we don't manage to snag some uber-rich heir to a shipping industry."

Brooke pulled a face. "_Hales_, it's _summer_, are you joking me? What school could possibly be important enough that you're starting all that icky college stuff now?"

"Stanford," Haley said, without hesitation.

"Oh," Brooke said, the only thing that could be said in the given situation. It wasn't that Brooke wasn't smart, but she was realistic, and Stanford was the kind of school that was out of her league. Haley completely outshone her in this respect as Brooke was also certain that her best friend would fit in very nicely there. Without her. "Well, I think I'm going to focus my energy on that shipping heir. You know, now that I'm single and all."

Haley shook her head. "You're so shallow."

"It's endearing, right?" Brooke grinned charmingly.

"That's one word for it."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to hear any others, smartass."

Haley smirked. "I guess I'll just have to wait for another time to show off my genius then."

"Yeah, yeah," Brooke waved her off. "You're so freaking self-centered. Let's go back to talking about me now, okay?"

Haley only shook her head in amusement as Brooke launched into her second tirade of the morning about her hopefully-soon-to-be-ex, trashy stepmother.

* * *

"Brooke!" Peyton called, staring up at her friend's open bedroom window. "Brooke, come on. I wanna talk to you."

Apparently, Brooke did not want to talk back. Not that Peyton blamed her for it or anything, but she was surprised at her former friend's show of restraint. Normally, she wouldn't have been able to resist the urge to hurl down a few choice words by now, words that would have made any lesser person run away in tears.

Peyton liked to think that she would be strong enough to handle Brooke's harsh tongue, but she had never been on the receiving end of it. Until Friday night, of course, but then she had been too drunk to string together two words, let alone process an entire tirade. Even now the details were hazy. The bigger picture, however, was unfortunately easy to grasp.

She had slept with Nathan, and Brooke had been the one to walk in on them.

It had been the worst mistake of her life and had she been in the right state of mind at the time, it would have never happened. It didn't completely justify what she did, but maybe it might be enough to convince Brooke to give her a second chance, to at least say 'hi' to her when they bumped into each other at the mall or something. Peyton was willing to start from the beginning and work her way back up to a real friendship with Brooke again. It would be hard, no doubt, but the alternative – never speaking again – was even worse.

Her jaw clenched at she stared up at still-empty window. This house had basically become her second home over the past year, a place to crash whenever her dad went out on his long business trips, which was pretty much all the time now. It was her familiarity with the place that had gotten her past the front gate without needing to buzz in for approval.

Getting into the house, however, was an entirely different matter. It seemed that the word had at least spread among the maids that Peyton was no longer welcome in the Davis estate. She had rung the doorbell, and somebody had answered promptly, of course, but when she had asked for Brooke, the woman told her that Brooke had gone out and proceeded to shut the door.

It was nine o'clock on a Sunday morning – in the middle of the summer, no less. Where could Brooke possibly be?

More likely, Brooke had placed the maids under strict instruction that a curly-haired, bony blonde girl was not to be admitted under any circumstances, and should she have the audacity to darken the doorstep then they were to slam the door in her face, hard, in hopes of possibly breaking her nose.

Peyton took a second to consider the idea. It was a very Brooke thing to do.

Anyway, ever the ingenious one, after being bluntly rejected at the front entrance, Peyton had stole around to the back of the house and proceeded to spend the next twenty minutes hissing Brooke's name up at the open window. So far, no answer, but Peyton was banking on the idea that she could annoy the stubbornness out of the brunette.

"Brooke!"

"Um, I don't think she's here," a cautious voice said behind her.

Peyton visibly flinched in surprise and spun around to find a guy with curly brown hair and some sort of filter in one hand watching her with raised eyebrows. She felt a hot flush grow on the back of her neck. "Who're you?" she demanded.

He brushed off her rude means of greeting and offered his free hand. "Jake," he said, "I work here." She pointedly ignored the hand, but he only laughed and stuck it back in his pocket. A few seconds of silence passed. "Well," Jake finally said, "it's your turn, curly-top."

Peyton narrowed her eyes. "Okay, never call me that again."

Jake shrugged, putting up his hands in an innocent gesture. "I don't know what else to call you since you won't tell me your name. Curly-top."

She folded her arms across her chest and scowled. "It's Peyton."

"Okay, Peyton," Jake grinned, ever-patient. "Now, why are _you _here?"

"That's none of your business," she ground out.

"Actually, it kinda is," Jake said. "See, what if you're trying to break in to the Davis' house or something? I might get fired for just standing around and letting it happen."

"I'd be a pretty sorry burglar," Peyton said sourly. "You know, considering I'm in flip-flops and shouting Brooke's name through the back window."

"Good point," Jake conceded. "So why didn't you just try the front door?"

"They told me she wasn't home," Peyton said.

"Well, did it ever occur to you that she's not?" Jake said with a raised brow. "I'm pretty sure I saw her leave about a half-hour ago."

"Oh," Peyton said. It sounded so much more believable coming from him. After all, what were the chances Brooke would vent her anger to the pool-boy or gardener or whatever the hell this guy was? She had to resist the urge to shuffle her feet shamefully. She was suddenly feeling very stupid. And embarrassed. And she was pretty sure her cheeks were flaming under his bemused stare. Damn pale skin. She tried to school her features back into their usual disaffected manner. "I just thought I'd see for myself, I guess."

"Yeah," Jake said slowly. "….Why?"

She blew a limp curl out of her face, annoyed. "Do you always ask this many questions?"

"Only if I'm interested in the person," Jake replied, flashing her a cheshire grin. She rolled her eyes, and he chuckled. Then he gestured to the filter in his hands. "Anyway, my pool-boy duties await. If you ever find yourself sneaking into people's backyards again and feel like talking, well, you know which one I'm in. See ya around, Curly-top."

He strolled off, still chuckling, and left Peyton to frown at his retreating back. Quick retorts had always been more of Brooke's thing, and she was pretty sure her mind was wilting under the glare of the relentless summer sun. A few moments later, her eyes drifted back to the open window.

"Yeah," she muttered. "Around. I wouldn't bet on that."

* * *

"Nathan?" Brooke called, rapping on the door for what must have been that fourth or fifth time. "Nathan," she said again. "I left some stuff here, and I want it back."

Some girls wouldn't have been able to do this, she reflected, staring blankly through the glass entrance of the Scott house. Most, in fact, would have found it much too difficult, painful, to subject themselves through the torture of facing their ex-boyfriends so soon after such a humiliating betrayal. But Brooke wasn't like that. She was all about tying up loose ends as quickly and neatly as possible, pushing whatever negative energy there was out of her life, so she could saunter on, relatively unscathed. This visit would hopefully accomplish that.

But there was no answer.

"Nathan!"

Aggravation grew inside her, threatening to escalate into all-out fury. No way was she leaving until her Jimmy Choos were back in her possession and she had undergone some type of needed catharsis. This had been her mission for the day, and she'd be damned if she didn't get what she wanted. Brooke pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number she had memorized by heart, coincidentally the second one on her speed dial, right after Haley's.

It rang four times, the sound echoing from somewhere inside the house, before the answering machine came on.

"Hello, you have reached the Scotts. We are currently unable to come to the phone right now. Please leave your name and number, and we will get back to you."

_Beep…_

"Nathan Scott," Brooke hissed into her phone dangerously. "Don't even try to play that game where you pretend not to be home because I can see your fucking Escalade out in the driveway. You have my stuff, and I want it back. Open this door right now, you stupid son of a…"

The door opened, and Brooke trailed off sheepishly. Needless to say, Nathan hadn't been the one who had answered.

"You rang?" a very amused-looking Lucas Scott greeted her.

"Yeah," Brooke said, recovering as she snapped her phone shut. "Sorry about that but Nathan turned off his cell phone. I had to find some way to get through to him."

"No big deal," Lucas waved her off. "I'll make sure to delete it before my parents get home."

"Thanks," Brooke said. "So is your brother here?"

"Um, yeah," Lucas said. "I think he's currently hiding out in his room with Tim."

Brooke rolled her eyes. "Asshole."

Lucas grinned. "Hey now, that's family you're talking about."

"Never admit that sort of thing in public, Luke."

Lucas only laughed and shook his head. "So what can I help you with, Brooke?"

"Actually," Brooke said. "I really do have to see Nathan."

The smile on his face dropped a couple notches. He hesitated, watching her with concerned eyes. "Are you sure? I heard what happened on Friday, and…"

Brooke held up a hand. "I'm not here to beg him to take me back or anything pathetic like that. He just has some of my stuff, and I wanted to pick it up."

"Oh," Lucas said. "Well, if you want, I can go get it all for you…"

An amused grin curved the corners of her lips upwards. Brooke shook her head to politely decline his offer. "I don't think we've gotten to that stage in our relationship yet," she teased.

A confused brow shot up on his face, and Brooke laughed outright. "I left some _personal _things here, Luke. No offense, but the lingerie is boyfriend-exclusive."

His cheeks flushed, and he hung his head to hide a sheepish smile. "Shame," he coughed out.

Brooke laughed again. "You're too cute, Lucas," she said as she patted one of his cheeks playfully. "I wish there could be more boys like you around here." She sauntered off past him up the staircase, and he was left to stare after her, his expression bordering on wistful, before he shook his head and retreated back into the living room.

"I hate this game!" Brooke heard a male voice whine as she reached the top of the stairs. She rolled her eyes and strode in the direction of the sound, coming from the second room on the left, one she knew entirely too well.

"Only because you always lose," another voice retorted.

Brooke paused in her reach for the doorknob. _Nathan_. A slinking tendril of hurt and humiliation wrapped itself around her, and it was enough to make her reconsider doing this right now. Lucas had offered…

_What's this?_ a taunting voice hissed in her mind. _Are you hesitating?_

Brooke squared her shoulders, and her face hardened into an expression of determination. Never. Brooke Davis didn't back down from anybody. Even man-whore ex-boyfriends. She twisted the knob and opened the door with a firm yank.

"Tim, sweetie, are you really that clueless?" she drawled, leaning against the doorframe. "Nathan has a whole book of those dumb video game codes underneath his bed."

The boys jerked around in surprise. Nathan managed to reign in his shock in a matter of seconds, but Tim was still gaping like a fish. "No, shit. Really?"

Brooke nodded. "See for yourself."

He glanced back at Nathan accusingly as he scrambled for the bed. "I _knew _you were cheating."

Nathan threw Brooke a dirty glare. "That was unnecessary."

"So was screwing my best friend when you already had a girlfriend," Brooke shrugged. She couldn't help the bitterness that accompanied her next two words. "Me, actually."

Nathan's lips curled. Deliberately languid, he brought himself to his feet and crossed the room to stand much closer to her than anybody else in his position ever should have attempted. She knew it was all a show specifically meant to infuriate her, and it was working. "Aw, come on, Brooke. You couldn't really think that you could keep me all to yourself."

"That's what's normally expected out of an exclusive relationship," Brooke snapped.

"Was exclusive specified?" Nathan wondered aloud, smirking.

"I don't share," Brooke hissed. "You should know that."

Nathan chuckled. "You're selfish."

"And you're an asshole," Brooke seethed. "Now, give me my stuff back, so I can get the hell out of here."

Nathan attempted an unconvincing pout. "Even the lingerie?"

"_Especially_ the lingerie," Brooke said. "I don't even wanna know what plans you and Tim had for it."

Nathan shook his head. "You're such a bitch, Brooke. I think the maid packed up all your stuff and put it in there," he said, pointing to the closet.

Brooke glared when he made no attempt to retrieve it for her and crossed the room herself. She yanked the closet doors open, and sure enough, there was a box neatly pushed against the back wall, and a quick glance inside revealed all her things neatly folded and stacked.

"You don't have to bother looking," Nathan drawled. "It's all there. Tim and I have Peyton's lingerie to mess around with now."

Brooke stiffened. A white-hot fury flooded her as her fingers clenched around the box, and she stood upright. "Fuck you," she said, her voice carefully steady, controlled.

"You did," Nathan agreed. "And so did your friend. Twice."

"Yeah, you'll regret that," Brooke said coldly. "Peyton may be easier, but I'm _better_. Don't bother crawling back after you get bored with her."

If there was one thing she pride herself on, Brooke mused as she stalked out of the room, it was that she could always keep her composure long enough to get the last word in. Always.

**Author's Note: **I know, I know. I'm a terrible person who didn't update her brand new story in almost two months. I don't really have much of an excuse besides exams, friend drama, and everybody's favorite: prom. Yeah. Mine's this Saturday and apparently a lot more planning goes into this thing than I ever imagined. Anyway, bad excuses, but you've heard them all before. I'll try to get the next chapter out sooner. In the meantime, please review!

_until next time…_

_caramelo_


	3. Either Way I'd Break Your Heart Someday

**Carve Your Heart Out Yourself**

_By: caramelo_

_I do not own _One Tree Hill_ or anything related to it._

**Part Three**

Brooke entered her house in a storm of disgust and fury, her good mood from her – ahem – leisurely activities that morning all but dissipated. Her exaggerated slamming of the front door drew the attention of a wary maid, one unfortunate enough to have been dusting the foyer when Brooke stamped in.

Brooke's eyes fell on the poor woman and locked into place. "You," she said, her voice sharp. "Take this box up to my room. Put everything away except for the lingerie. I don't care what happens to that. Keep it, toss it, burn it, whatever. Just make sure I don't see it again."

"Yes, miss," the maid said, scurrying forward to retrieve the box from Brooke's arms.

Brooke sighed as her burden was relieved. "Thank you," she said. "Now, I'm going out to the pool for the next few hours, and I don't want anyone bothering me, okay? Remember Marissa's freak-out with the pool-chair on _The O.C._? Yeah, she's got nothing on me."

The maid nodded solemnly, even though it was more than likely she had no idea what Brooke was talking about. Brooke finally allowed a tiny grin. "I'm glad we're on clear terms. Remember, the shoes are sorted by designer, then color."

Brooke made her way to the back of the house where the mini-locker room, complete with showers and actual lockers, for the pool was located and stripped off her dress in favor of her favorite black bikini. She grabbed a magazine, sun-tan oil, and towels from the bins beside the door and slid on her sunglasses as she stepped into the bright courtyard.

_Much better_, she thought as she slid gratefully into a pool chair. She shut her eyes, already lulled into a sleepy, dreamlike state by the quiet and the hot rays above her. This was almost perfect.

And then it wasn't.

"Jesus Christ!" Brooke shrieked, shooting straight up as a deafening whirring noise cut into the stillness of her surroundings. The noise cut off abruptly, and Brooke found herself meeting the gaze of a sheepish pool boy.

"Um, sorry," he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I was vacuuming the pool. I didn't notice you there."

Brooke was beyond frustrated. Why the hell was everybody making it their personal responsibility to make sure that she was perennially in a bad mood? "Well, now you do," she snapped. "So leave."

"Sorry, ma'am, no can do," the boy shrugged easily. "I've got a few other jobs, and your dad's paying me to have this pool cleaned today."

"Other jobs?" Brooke said doubtfully. "We don't share the help."

The guy had the audacity to look amused. "Yeah, your dad told me about that. But we worked out an agreement."

"Well, did this agreement have anything in it about keeping his precious daughter happy and healthy and _not _shredding all his business papers? 'Cause if it did, you are definitely not doing your job."

"Sorry, princess," the guy laughed, shaking his head. "That wasn't covered in the contract."

"It's Brooke, for future reference," she sneered. "If you manage to stick around long enough, that is. Our last one didn't make it past the week."

"Oh, trust me," the guy said. "This deal's way too good for me to blow, so you'll be seeing me around. Name's Jake, by the way."

Brooke shrugged. "I'll just group you in under 'The Help' anyway. You can't expect me to remember all your names."

"You really have such a charming personality, Miss Davis," Jake said dryly. "Almost as endearing as your friend."

"What friend?" Brooke asked.

"The one who was here looking for you earlier. With the curls. Peyton."

Brooke's eyes narrowed. "That bitch came here? When?"

Jake shrugged. "A couple hours ago, I guess. I take it you're not friends, then."

"Not anymore," Brooke said sharply.

"I'm guessing there's a pretty long story behind that one," he surmised.

Brooke glared. "Yeah, actually, there is. But I don't talk about that kind of stuff with the help."

Jake grinned. "You sure? I'm actually a pretty good listener. Insight, and all that."

"I'm sure," Brooke said, gathering her things. "Just make sure you threaten her with the pool vacuum if she tries to break in again, okay? Maybe suck up a curl or two if she doesn't get the hint."

Jake only laughed, and Brooke walked off in a huff.

* * *

"Hey, Luke, toss me a Coke, would ya?" Nathan requested from his seat at the kitchen counter.

"Sorry," Lucas grunted as he pulled out the last can and took an exaggerated swig of it, "We're all out."

Nathan narrowed his eyes. "You don't even like Coke all that much."

Lucas shrugged. "I guess you're right," he said before proceeding to pour the rest of it down the sink. "I think I'll just grab a water."

"What is with you, man?" Nathan demanded, clearly agitated. "I wanted that."

Lucas only shrugged again.

Nathan stood. "Seriously. What the hell is your problem?"

"I don't have a problem," Lucas said coldly. "Get off your ass, and go buy a freaking Coke if you want one that bad. The gas station's only five minutes away."

"That's not the point, and you know it," Nathan shot back. "We had a Coke and I obviously wanted it, and you just poured it down the drain on purpose."

"So poor little Natey-boo didn't get what he wanted?" Lucas said condescendingly. "I know it's a kind of end-of-the-world, the-apocalypse-is-coming experience for you, but this is how the real world works sometimes."

The steam coming out of Nathan's ears was almost visible. "Okay, one, I only dated that Britney chick for two weeks, so the nickname should have been buried a long time ago. And, two, stop being such a fucking asshole and tell me how I managed to piss you off without even talking to you for the past few days."

"Maybe I'm just suffering from a withdrawal from the lack of your attention," Lucas said, obviously insincere. "You know how cranky that makes me, Nate-Nate." He shook his head disgustedly and strode from the room.

Nathan scowled and sat back into his chair, considering the merits of tackling his brother next time he saw him. And…

"No more 'cute' nicknames," he grumbled. "Every girl that uses them turns out to be some neurotic psycho-bitch anyway."

* * *

"Haley, come on. Not you too."

"I'm sorry," Haley said to a pleading Peyton, "but I have to stick with Brooke on this one. You messed up, Peyt."

"But you weren't even involved!"

"Brooke's my best friend," she said testily. "Of course I'm involved."

Peyton paused, clearly upset. "I thought we were pretty good friends too."

Haley grimaced. "We were - or we are. I don't know. Brooke's just really mad and hurt right now, and I don't know if it would be such a good idea for us to still hang out and stuff. You know she'll see it as a betrayal."

"I know," Peyton sighed. "I just - it was one mistake, you know? I was drunk. If I had known I'd lose all my friends because of it…"

Haley watched Peyton struggle against her tears with pity. "I know," she said softly. "Which is why I have to ask: why Nathan, Peyt? Of all the guys in that party, why did it have to be him? You knew how Brooke felt about him, how she's felt about him for _years_."

Peyton hung her head. "I don't even know. I was drunk and upset, and he was there and being so nice and understanding and one thing led to another and…"

"Brooke walked in on you," Haley finished.

"Yeah," Peyton said. "I guess you know the rest."

"Oh, yeah," Haley said.

She definitely knew. _Everyone_ had been witness to the explosion that had happened afterwards.

"_What the fuck is going on here?" Brooke said icily. Nathan and Peyton stared at her blankly from their incriminating positions on the bed._

"_What the fuck?" she repeated. "What the fuck!"_

_Brooke's last outburst attracted stares and whispers from all around._

"_What's going on?"_

"_Nathan and Peyton hooked up!"_

"_Shhh! Listen!"_

_Brooke strode boldly into the room, unabashed. "You bitch," she said to a bleary Peyton. "You fucking bitch."_

"_Brooke," Peyton giggled. "That was mean."_

"_Mean?" Brooke's eyes flashed. "I haven't even gotten started. Why don't you try untangling yourself from the boyfriend formerly known as mine for a few minutes so you can have at least the dignity of standing while I tear you down?"_

_Peyton blinked and looked down at her arms, still curiously twisted around Nathan's torso. She bit her lip. "Listen, I know this looks kinda bad, but…"_

_Brooke laughed, high and mocking. "Do you even hear yourself right now? Give it up, Peyton. I don't even have to try and make you look like desperate loser because you're doing such a fabulous job all by yourself. God, put on a shirt at least, will you? People are staring."_

_Peyton peeked over Nathan to see way too many pairs of gleaming eyes staring back at her and moaned. "Brooke," she said tiredly. "Please. I'm so wasted right now. Can we just do this later?"_

"_I don't think so," Brooke said. "Considering this is the last time I'm ever going to speak to you. This friendship is over, Peyton."_

"_Brooke -" Peyton protested, but the brunette's attention had already shifted._

"_And as for you," she said, wheeling on Nathan. "I don't even know why I dated you in the first place, you pathetic, cheating _asshole_."_

_Nathan sighed impatiently and shifted. "Can we not drag this out please? Just say we're over."_

_Brooke's eyes flashed. "We're _so _over. I hope you two have a miserable life together."_

_The crowd outside the door parted for Brooke as she stormed through, though the whispers flying through the air were as thick as ever. The other party-goers watched briefly as she strode down the stairs and out the door, her head held high and her eyes bright but dry, careful to mask any ounce of defeat or shame that may have been weighing her down. When the door slammed shut behind her, their eyes returned to the prone forms of Nathan and Peyton on the bed._

_Nathan reveled in the attention. "Well," he said, grinning wolfishly down at Peyton. "Ready for another go?"_

_Peyton twisted away from him and turned to the people watching her with baited breath. "Everybody out!" she ordered, though her forlorn tone lacked authority. The people began to disperse anyway, sensing that there was little more drama to be witnessed. "Where's my goddamn shirt?" she moaned._

"So," Peyton said to Haley. "Do you think we could ever hang out again?"

Haley hesitated. "It depends, Peyton. I hate being in this situation where my two closest friends are fighting, especially when it's so hard to balance both friendships. Brooke's really fragile right now…"

Peyton snorted, and Haley gave her a look. "She is," Haley insisted. "You know how she is. And I know she won't feel any better if she thinks you're trying to steal one of her friends too."

"It isn't like that at all," Peyton protested.

"I know," Haley placated. "But that's how Brooke will see it, and I really don't want to do anything that will upset her any more than she already is."

"Yeah," Peyton said. "I get it."

"Give it time," Haley said gently. "I'll talk to her. She'll come around eventually." Peyton nodded half-heartedly, and Haley offered a smile. "Really, Peyt, I think - " Her cell phone suddenly buzzed to life, playing the opening cords of a Ben Folds song that Peyton had introduced her to. She glanced at the screen and then back at Peyton apologetically before flipping it open.

"Hey, Brooke," she greeted.

The heated tirade pouring out of Haley's phone implied that everything was not okay in Brooke-world. Haley winced. "Calm down, Tigger, I can't really understand you….You did what? Oh, Brooke…Yes, of course, I'll be right there…Ten minutes, promise. See you soon." She snapped her phone shut and turned to Peyton, her lip bitten in guilt. "I'm sorry to just run off mid-conversation, but Brooke really needs me right now."

"Hey, whatever," Peyton waved her off, faking nonchalance. "It's understandable. She's going through a tough time."

Haley nodded and pulled herself up. "I'll see you around, okay? Things will sort themselves out, Peyt."

"Yeah," Peyton replied brightly. "I hope so," she added in a softer voice as she watched her last close friend walk away from her.

**Author's Note: **So, I definitely let time get away from me. There isn't an excuse for this long of a lull, so I won't give one. Truthfully, I wasn't sure if I'd ever get around to picking this story back up, but after months of not writing fanfiction, here I am again. If you're still with me, great - please leave a review. I'll get the next chapter out as soon as possible, though it and all chapters following will probably be shorter than the 3000+ word chapters I usually post in the interest of getting more posts out sooner.


	4. Dimples and Unchecked Genius

**Carve Your Heart ****Out**** Yourself**

_By: __caramelo_

_I do not own _One Tree Hill_ or anything related to it._

**Part Four**

"Brooke?"

Haley rapped on her friend's bedroom door cautiously. The maid who had ushered her upstairs had been unusually harried, suggesting that Brooke was in a _very fragile_ state.

"Brooke?" Haley tried again.

The door flew open, and Haley was met with a heavy scowl. "You know you don't have to knock," Brooke snapped, turning on her heel and stalking back into her room.

Haley paused for a moment, asked herself if she really wanted to do this, and then ventured inside after her friend. "Okay, Brooke," she said with a sigh. "What happened?"

"What do you think?" Brooke snarled.

"I don't know," Haley said in her best no-nonsense voice. "That's why I'm asking you. I'd appreciate it if you cut out the snark since I dropped everything to come here for you."

Brooke at least had the decency to look abashed, though when she spoke her voice was no gentler than before. "That asshole still had my stuff, so I had to go get it from him, of course. And that _asshole_ wasn't the least bit sorry about what he did. He even had the audacity to suggest that I should have expected him to end up fucking Peyton."

Haley sighed. "You know he's a jerk, Brooke."

"I know," Brooke shook her head, agitated. "But still, he should have…"

"Whatever you wanted out of him, it wasn't going to happen," Haley said gently.

Brooke's eyes flickered up to Haley's, surprised.

"I'm sorry, Brooke," Haley said, sincere, "but he's not that guy."

Brooke remained silent for a long moment, and Haley felt apprehension creep up her spine, but she knew the best thing would be to ride out whatever reaction Brooke was about to have. Instead of an explosion, however, or even a particularly scathing remark, Brooke's expression shuttered and her eyes averted.

"I know," she said in a small voice. "But sometimes I really wish he was."

It was times like these that reminded Haley that no matter how much bravado and bitchiness Brooke paraded to the world, she was just another girl who did get hurt and have her heart broken like everyone else. Particularly by this boy, who didn't even deserve it.

"Brooke," Haley murmured, wrapping her best friend in her arms. "Brooke, I really am sorry. I hate that he did this to you."

Brooke, for her part, allowed herself to relax into the embrace. "Me too," she said with a bitter laugh. "Fool me once and all, right?"

"You can't help who you love," Haley said.

"But you'd think I could get it in my head that he'll never love me back, and just move on," Brooke said, frustrated.

"You'll get over him," Haley assured her. "It just takes time."

"More than seventeen years, apparently."

"You haven't loved him your whole life," Haley said.

"No," Brooke said, pulling away with a bitter smile. "But I can't remember a time when I didn't."

"Have you ever thought that maybe it's not love, and just wanting what you don't have?" Haley asked tentatively.

Brooke only stared.

"Okay, yeah, dumb question," Haley retracted.

"And it's not just that," Brooke continued. "I love him, and he's this complete ass who screwed my best friend, and I'm being pathetic over it, and to top it all off, I just remembered that he's still got my favorite mixed CD."

"The one Peyton gave you for your birthday?"

Brooke glared, "If you want to get specific, yeah."

Haley hid a smile. "Sorry, just clarifying."

Brooke rolled her eyes, implying just what exactly she thought of _that_. "Well, whatever," she said. "The point is that he's got it and I want it, because I don't remember what some of the bands were but I like them, and it's _mine_. So now I have to go back over there even though I really don't want to and have to deal with him and stupid Tim and…"

"Brooke?" Haley cut in. "Would you like me to pick it up for you?"

Brooke halted, mid-tirade. "You would willingly go into the devil's lair for me?"

"Well, yeah," Haley said. "I mean, it's better than you having to face Nathan again when it's obviously the last thing you want to do."

"Also," she added as an afterthought, "I don't completely trust you not to do something completely irrational like stab him while you're there, and I'd rather my best friend not be incarcerated for the rest of the summer."

"That would be really tragic for my social life," Brooke agreed.

Haley laughed. "So are you feeling any better now, Tigger?"

"I don't feel like breaking things anymore," Brooke said honestly. "So, yeah, I guess."

"That's progress," Haley said. "So next time I see you…"

"Will be at Bevin's party tomorrow," Brooke interjected.

"Yeah," Haley said, "And I will hopefully have your CD for you by then."

"You're the best," Brooke said, launching herself at her friend and throwing her arms around her tight.

Haley caught Brooke with a laugh. "I know," she said, "and I'm glad you took the time to finally appreciate it."

* * *

_The Scott mansion_, Haley mused, standing before the door of the impressive concrete and glass house, the largest privately owned structure on this side of the zip code. Leave it to Dan Scott to flaunt his money for the millions it was worth without an ounce of shame.

Haley had been here before, of course, for parties and social dinners or just tagging along with Brooke. Years ago, she had even come here on her own. This had been back in seventh grade, when Brooke had decided that the new curly-haired addition to their homeroom was much more interesting than Haley, thanks to their shared interests in cheerleading and boy-chasing, leaving Haley with an empty seat beside her at lunch and sans after-school plans.

During this time, Lucas Scott had been assigned to be her partner for an English project, and they found out they loved nearly all the same books (with the glaring exception of _The Catcher in the Rye_, which Lucas had adored and Haley had loathed). It was enough to spark conversation between them, then genuine friendship. After school and on weekends, they would watch movies together or goof around on the nearby golf course.

But, naturally, this was all in middle school, a time where cattiness ran rampant. A year later, when Brooke came back to Haley remorseful and with tickets to the premiere of Freaky Friday as a peace offering, and rumors had begun to spring about how Lucas and Haley were _doing it_, the pair drifted apart. It had been a somewhat conscious decision on both their parts, and though they had remained friendly throughout the remainder of middle school and high school - bonded by books and honors courses - they were never as close as before.

So when Haley rang the doorbell, it was with some trepidation. It wasn't that she was shy exactly, but she never was the outgoing, take-charge Brooke type either. In the end though, it wasn't an awkward encounter with Lucas she had to worry about. Nathan was the one who answered the door.

The tight expression on his face seemed to indicate that he had been expecting someone else as well. As soon as his eyes fell on her, however, the lines dropped and his face went blank. "Oh," he said impassively, "you."

Immediately, Haley found herself getting irritated. "Yeah, me," she answered back shortly. "Are you this polite to everyone who comes to your house?"

A spark of life re-entered Nathan's eyes. "Well, usually, we invite the people who come knocking down our door at all hours of the day," he drawled.

"If you're implying that I'm a nuisance to try and get me to go away, it's not going to work," she said. "Your mother once told me that I had a standing invitation here."

"My mother tends to take pity on people like you," he returned. "But I guess I should follow her example and invite you in, right?" He took a step to the right and gestured grandly inside.

"How very polite of you," she said, thinly veiled aggravation creeping into her voice.

"I can do better," he said with a mocking grin. "Can I offer you a drink? Soda, maybe?" His eyes trailed down her figure suggestively. "Or, you know, water if you've finally decided to start counting those calories."

Haley knew she wasn't fat. She knew that Nathan knew she wasn't fat, and he was just saying it to be an ass. However, her next words still came out in a snarl. "I'm fine, thank you. What I could use though, is that CD you stole from Brooke."

Nathan laughed. "Sensitive, much? And seriously, take a look around. Does it look like I ever really have to steal anything? Brooke left her stupid CD here after she came to hook up with me a few days ago."

She shut her eyes and tried to remain calm. "Well, can you bring it to me?"

"Do I get anything in return?" he asked curiously.

She cracked open one eye in disbelief. "Yeah," she said. "I'll leave."

He shrugged and turned to the stairs. "I guess that's incentive enough."

It was exactly what she wanted him to do, but for some reason, that answer made Haley burn.

* * *

"Hey, princess," Jake said as Brooke slid back into her pool chair.

"Not now, pool boy," Brooke said impatiently, whipping out her cell phone. "I have to make a call."

He cocked a brow at her brusque treatment but said nothing, only watching as Brooke punched in the numbers on a sleek little toy that probably would have cost him a month's pay, at least.

"Hey, Bevvie," Brooke cooed into the phone when somebody, presumably _Bevvie_, picked up on the other end.

Brooke laughed at something the other girl said, but it was a short, almost bark of a sound that led Jake to believe that it may not have been genuine.

"Of course, I am," she continued with an impatient wave of the hand that Bevvie (_that couldn't be her real name could it?_ Jake mused) was unable to see. "But yeah," - this was where her voice turned cold - "what's this I hear about Peyton being invited?"

There was a pause while Brooke listened to the girl explain herself. The pinched expression on Brooke's face hinted at an explosion soon to come.

"_Bevin_," she said harshly (so _that_ was her real name, Jake realized, satisfied), "What did I say about her being _blacklisted_?"

Another pause. Whatever Bevin said made Brooke pull away and stare at her phone in disbelief, as if it was to blame for whatever words had come out of it.

"No, Bevin, blacklisted does not mean that Peyton has the hookups in the ghetto. There's not even a ghetto around here!"

Bevin said something and Brooke brought a hand up to cover her face, frustrated. "No, it means that Peyton doesn't have the hookups anywhere with anybody. Peyton isn't on the invite list for any party, period."

Silence, then, "I know she's on the invite list for your party, but she's not supposed to be. Take her off."

The next words out of Brooke's mouth came out shrill, nearly a shriek. "Then un-invite her!"

Fortunately, Bevin's sense of self-preservation finally seemed to kick in, because her next response appeared to soothe Brooke rather than drive her further into a fury.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right. She'd be crazy to show up at a party where it's so obvious she's not welcome…Okay, bye, Bevvie. You too."

Brooke snapped her phone shut and took a deep breath. Then another.

"You really hate that girl, don't you?" Jake said, snapping her out of her reverie.

She stared at him blankly for a few seconds, then glanced at the phone in her hand. "Who, Bevin?" she said with a furrowed brow.

"No, Peyton," he said.

Her lips thinned into a stiff line. "We've already gone over this."

"Not really," he said.

"We've covered the main points," she said shortly. "You're the pool boy, I'm the boss. Therefore, we don't discuss things."

"Except you're not really the boss," he pointed out. "Your dad is."

"Yeah, well, Daddy's not around much, is he?" she snapped back. "So that kind of puts me in charge. Of the house, the maids, and _you_, specifically."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Get over yourself, princess."

Brooke's eyes, in turn, narrowed into slits. "Excuse me?"

"I said that you're not in charge of anything. I answer to the guy who pays my bills. Your father, _specifically_, among others."

"You can't talk to me like that."

"Brooke, seriously, get real. With all due respect, we're about the same age. Are you really going to parade around like you're so much better than me just because your dad makes more money than mine?"

"If you haven't noticed," she said condescendingly, "money's everything around here."

"It's sort of hard not to notice," he admitted. "But you always kind of hope to meet the people that are different. I guess you're not one of them."

Before Brooke could formulate a response, Jake shook his head and busied himself with other yard work duties. Vaguely, she mused that this was the first time she could remember not getting the last word in.

* * *

Haley scurried down the steps of the Scott entrance, Brooke's CD in hand. She promised herself right then and there that she would never volunteer to weather another encounter with Nathan Scott again. It wasn't that he intimidated her. No, she had stood up to much worse, included but not solely limited to the temper tantrum Brooke had pitched last year, when Haley had told her about the family trip to Europe her parents had planned for the entire summer, leaving them with _no _time to lay out by the pool or party together.

Rather, it was that Nathan, the bastard, was just so infuriating. He couldn't manage to be polite, or even civil, if his worthless existence depended on it. Which, obviously it didn't since the son of the bitch was still walking and talking and smirking every goddamn chance he got.

Haley was so harried by the encounter that she didn't notice the person walking up the opposite direction until it was too late. "Oomph," she gasped as she collided with someone much taller than her. The CD flew out of her hands and landed on the sidewalk below with a clatter.

"Whoa there," a very familiar voice said, his chest rumbling against her as she unburied her face from his shirt. "I'm sorry."

"No," Haley said, "it was my fault. I wasn't watching where I was going and…" She trailed off as she met the amused eyes of her onetime good friend, Lucas Scott, carrying a twelve-pack of cokes in one hand.

She had been expecting it, of course, from the second she had heard him speak. However, it didn't make the encounter any less awkward or surprising, given the fact that she had just tried to bulldoze through him.

Lucas laughed. "Here let me get that for you," he offered, bending down to retrieve the CD she had dropped.

"Oh, no, I got it," she insisted, kneeling down as well.

Lucas's fingers, however, curled around it first, and he met her eyes with a playful smile as he held it out to her. "Guess I'm faster," he teased.

"You're a cheater," Haley grumbled as she took it from him. "You gave yourself a head start."

"That's the thanks I get for helping you out?" he said with a raised brow, pretending to be offended, as they both straightened themselves out. "Geez, remind me not to do it again."

"Well, if you're going to be so smug about it every time, then I will," she said.

The pair stared each other down for a few moments before simultaneously breaking out into laughter. "You're something else, Hales," he said.

"Surely, you've figured that out before now," she said jokingly.

"Yeah, yeah," he waved her off. "You're going to take charge of the world one day; we all know it."

"No," she corrected. "That would be Brooke. But I'll be the mastermind behind her campaign for world domination."

"Dimples and unchecked genius," he said, shaking his head. "An unbeatable, and scary, combination."

"Downright lethal," she agreed somberly.

Lucas laughed. "So not that I'm complaining, but what made you take a break from your master plan and come here? You haven't been around in a while. My mom's been asking about you."

"And you've told her all good stuff, I hope."

"You don't give me anything bad to say about you," he said, pretending to be frustrated. "But one day, one day I'll catch you doing something wrong, and I'll go straight to her with it."

"And she won't believe you," she returned primly.

"Probably not," he admitted.

The pair laughed again, and Haley was stricken by how easy their companionship was, even after years of negligible contact. "So," Lucas said as their laughter died down. "What brought you here anyway?"

"Oh," she said. "Actually, I came to see Nathan."

Lucas's expression darkened considerably. "And the procession continues," he muttered.

She swatted him lightly. "Don't even. You know I'm smarter than that. He just had something of Brooke's, and she didn't feel like coming back to get it."

"Oh," he said, obviously relieved. "Well, let her know that if she needs anything else, she can call me and I'll drop it off whenever. She doesn't have to keep sending you down here."

Haley raised a brow but didn't comment on any suspicions she may have had. "Thanks. I'll let Brooke know you offered."

He nodded with an easy smile. "And you, I don't want it to be another five years before my mother sees you again. You know she's a worrier. We need to hang out more often."

"Yeah," she said, returning his smile. "I'd like that."

"Good. I'll call you sometime this week," he said. "Are you going to Bevin's party?"

"Reluctantly. Brooke'll pitch a fit if I don't."

"Yeah, well, I'll be there standing around in a corner too. Dan Scott basically pushes Nathan and I out the door whenever he hears about a good party. It's all about making an impression, you know," he said, rolling his eyes. "So I'll see you there, and we'll make plans to meet up later?"

"Sounds good," she said. "Bye, Luke."

"See ya, Hales."


End file.
